Blood in the Sand The 7th Annual Hunger Games
by ziodyne
Summary: Collen Riften and Dahlia Lovecrest are the new tributes for District Three in the Seventh Annual Hunger Games. The story is told through the eyes of Collen as he participates in the most brutal arena to date. Story does not alter the original trilogy.
1. Chapter 1

**1**

"Collen Riften!" I hear my name being yelled from the stage. It's dark outside, but there's enough lights shining on that flamboyant Capitol asshole, Rosche Aberdee, that I can see he is holding up a white slip of paper. Third time is the charm I suppose. I haven't signed up for any tesserae, meaning out of the thousands of paper slips in that bowl sitting on stage, one of my three was chosen.

The peacekeepers come walking through the aisles of District Three children until they reach my group. I see them beckoning me over. All eyes are on me as I walk to the stage. That includes my best friend, Even. He looks sad…guilty almost. It's not something I blame him for, but his chances of getting picked were way higher than mine. He has four siblings and I'm pretty sure he's signed up for tesserae for every single one of them, including his parents. Combined with the fact that he has been to the reaping for a total of four years.

Quite honestly, Even could probably win the Hunger Games. I feel like he's the type that would be good at thinking how to survive with the possibility of death looming over him at every second. I, however, am in no way like that. I've watched the first six Hunger Games. I'm going to end up being one of those people killed in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. Part of me really wishes that someone would rise up and offer themselves as a tribute right about now. If I was in District One, that would definitely happen. In the more recent reapings, District One children have actually fought over volunteering to be tributes on live television.

I step on to the stage, where Rosche greets me with a hand shake. He's even more repulsive looking in person than on TV. Tall and slender, long green hair tied in a braid, powdered white skin, and different colored eye contacts. He's the epitome of the Capitol's embellishments. His outfit is even worse, though. He's wearing a bright pink tuxedo and has glittery silver gloves. Remains of the glitter stay on my hand after we shake. I try my best to wipe it off on my pants but the stuff is stuck to me like glue.

"Now it's time to announce our female tribute!" Rosche exclaims in his peppy Capitol accent. He swivels his hand around in the bowl of slips for a few seconds. I can hear over the microphone that he is doing a cheerful and obnoxious hum as he mixes the slips. He finally draws one out, and squints at the name. "Dahlia Lovecrest, COME ON UP," he yells cheerfully. Dahlia. I know of her. Her father worked on making televisions at the factory. Now everyone across Panem uses them. She's a beautiful girl. Wavy red hair, freckles, and deep green eyes. Everything about her gives me this vision of serenity. Rosche couldn't have picked any worse names out of those bowls. District Three is now being represented by a delicate maiden and a wimpy pessimist.

Dahlia reaches her hand out to me and tries to muster a smile, but it's very clear that she is just as distraught as I am. I shake her hand while returning a fake smile.

"May the odds be ever in your favor!" Rosche tells the both of us.

Not even a few moments later we are escorted by peacekeepers into the justice building. The have Dahlia and I sit on an old suede couch and tell us to wait for Rosche to give further instructions. Once the peacekeepers leave the room, Dahlia lets loose with her tears. I'm not quite sure how to comfort someone in a situation like this. It's not like I can say any words to make her feel better. I'm in the same damn situation too. I look up at the wall in front of me. There is a giant metal gear hanging on it.

I had always aspired to be like my father when I grew up. He was a master with explosive technology. He'd teach me tricks here and there about the workings of a bomb. It amazes me how he creates such tiny and complex objects that cause so much destruction. That giant gear will always remind me of the greatness of District 3, and of my father.

"I guess I can't blame you for just sitting there," I hear Dahlia say behind her tears. My focus shifts from the gear to her.

"I'm sorry, I just…"

"Don't worry about it, we're both in the same boat," she interrupts my apology as she wipes her tears away. "It's not your job to comfort me."

"I guess if I have anything to look forward to before I die, it's getting all dolled up by the Capitol."

I laugh. She's not really that different from myself. Dahlia also seems to agree that there is no chance of winning the Hunger Games.

"So you think there's no chance too, huh?" I ask her.

She stands up and faces me."You've seen previous reapings from Districts One, Two, and Four. Those kids have been training for this since the first Hunger Games!"

Rosche interrupts our conversation by loudly bursting through the justice building doors. "Hellloooo tributes," he says with his obnoxious perkiness. "We're allowing you both ten minutes to speak to your loved ones before we depart. I'll be back when the time is up," he says.

The peacekeepers escort my father and Dahlia's family inside the justice building. Dahlia runs to her mother and gives her a giant hug, while my father slowly approaches me near the couch. At first we stand there facing each other in silence, and then he leans in and gives me a tight hug. The squeeze of his arms hurt emotionally more than they do physically. I feel his tear drops falling on my back.

My mother died of illness when I was three years old, and I was an only child. For all of these years it was just my father and I. He wasn't the warmest person in the world, but he made sure he could raise me and put food on the table. Honestly, for just my father and myself, putting food on the table wasn't that difficult since there weren't as many mouths to feed compared to Even's family. This tearful embrace that he has me locked in right now is the first time I've ever seen a warm side to him, and that is why it hurts me inside to be saying this final goodbye.

My father lets go from the hug, but places his hands on my shoulders. "Look, Collen, I know that you think this might be hopeless, but please don't give up," he pleads. I look down at the ground. It's really hard to face him right now. That's a promise I can't keep because giving up sounds like the best solution right now. "Look at me, Collen," my father orders. My head shoots back up to face his. "If you can't fight, then survive."

If I can't fight, then survive. Can I even survive? I feel like I'm not even capable enough to do that. The problem is the guilt of not promising my father will keep me from giving up. "I promise," I say bleakly.

My father gives a tearful smile and then reaches into his pocket. "You're allowed one token during the games. I want you to have this," he says as he hands me a small metal gear. He couldn't have picked a more perfect item.

"Two minutes left!" Rosche yells at us.

A few seconds later, I see Even run up to my father and I. "Collen, I'm sorry, I should have volunteered," he says with a devastated tone.

"No," I reply. "You have a family to take care of."

My father turns to Even and tries to console him. "Collen will be just fine. It's not your responsibility to cover him on something like this."

Even nods and then proceeds to give me a hug even tighter than my father's. I'm not quite sure how many more of these I can take. "You do whatever it takes to make it out alive. I'll be watching every second I can," he promises. I give him a nod and then give my father one final hug.

"Time's up!" Rosche yells. "Everybody out, out, out!"

My father and Even head out of the justice building, but Dahlia is stuck to her family like super glue. She refuses to let go. It gets to the point where Rosche has to pry her off of her mother. I can hear her mother yell, "No, don't let my daughter go!"

Rosche finally manages to clear her family out of the building, and it goes back to being just us. "Well, that was fun," he says as he claps his hands together. "Let's get going you two, the train is here!"

Rosche walks ahead, expecting us to follow him; however, Dahlia is standing in the same place where he family was just a few moments earlier. She looks completely devoid of life.


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

I haven't heard Dahlia speak at all since that day in the Justice Building. We've been relatively separated until now, when we are just boarding the chariot. Luci, our stylist, actually did a really good job on the both of us. We're both wearing green engineer outfits with goggles, and black gloves. It's simple, but I think it represents District Three pretty well. In terms of facial appearance and hair, Dahlia doesn't look that different. Her skin was already flawless. The only thing that changed was that her wavy red hair was now straight flowing down her back with her bangs just reaching the edge of her eyebrows.

I can't say I don't look any different. Luci put me through some intensive makeover the second she saw me. I remember her walking into my compartment and almost gasping at the sight of me. She started off by giving my messy black hair a much needed trim, but there was nothing she could do about my dark and baggy eyes. She asked her prep team if it was plausible to give me an eye lift and thankfully they all agreed that there wouldn't be enough time for me to recover.

One thing that I do like about Luci is that she is way less obnoxious than Rosche, despite her appearance. She has a blue afro, a golden glow on her skin, and wears some weird disco-style outfit. She'd actually ask me how my life was back in Disctrict Three, about the things I would do, about my father. It surprised me even, to see someone from the Capitol treat me so kindly.

"Haven't seen you in a while," I say to Dahlia. "Luci did a good job with you."

Dahlia turns to me, but she doesn't smile. "Thanks, you too," she responds plainly.

We both fall into an awkward silence until Luci comes up to our chariot.

"Okay, I'm going to need both of you to put on some game faces and act like you are good friends. You won't get the crowd going at all if you both just stand there blankly," she advises.

Dahlia stays silent, but I answer for both of us. "You got it."

The chariots depart, and I look back at Luci who is blowing kisses to Dahlia and I. Once we emerge to the giant crowds of Capitol citizens, Dahlia's demeanor completely changes. She places her arm around my shoulder and I follow suit. With her other arm she begins to wave to the Capitol people cheering for her. I can hear people shouting from the crowds how gorgeous she is. I don't stand out nearly as well as her, but I try to wave to the crowd as well. The crowd on my side of the chariot is much less enthusiastic, but I can hear a decent amount of cheers. How Dahlia is presenting herself to the crowd is actually making me want to cheer for her as well. She did say the one thing she'd enjoy before dying is being all dolled up by the Capitol, and this is probably her getting the most she can out of it.

Once we arrive in the training building, Dahlia definitely gets a few bad looks from the other female tributes. I could see a District One girl glare directly at her with some very jealous blue eyes. She's pretty as well; nice figure, long and curly blonde hair. The thing is she doesn't match the pure and entrancing beauty that Dahlia has. Once Dahlia notices her jealous stare, the District One girl puts on a fake smile and approaches us.

"Hi, I'm Zara," she says as she extends her hand out to Dahlia and I. We both cautiously shake her hand. "My partner and I would like to have you both team up with us during the games." Dahlia and I both look at each other in suspicion.

"Why us?" I ask.

"We like District Three. The two of you could be very useful to us, and obviously we'll help you guys out as well," she says confidently while putting her hands on her hips.

Before I can answer, Dahlia cuts in. "Sounds more like you'll take advantage and dispose us when you're done."

Zara tries to fake being shocked at Dahlia's accusation. "Of course not! We respect the both of you and I think we can both help each other."

There's an obvious tension between Dahlia and Zara. It's like a giant elephant in the room.

"We'll think about it," I answer, trying to alleviate the tension.

Zara gives a forced smile and then returns to her chariot.

We're escorted by Rosche to our floor in the Training Center. He doesn't stop going on about how fabulous we were in the chariot. "You both were so much better than any other District. I really believed you were both lifelong friends!" The training center is way nicer than anything I've seen in District Three. It feels really weird that the Capitol is giving us all this luxury right before they send us to our deaths. Rosche instructs us to meet him in the dining room in one hour, and Dahlia and I head to our separate rooms. The first thing I spot is the gigantic king sized bed with a canopy over it. I immediately fall back on it and look up at the ceiling. It feels so much nicer than my bed at home which feels like a pile of rocks. However, something about it doesn't feel the same. I get off the bed and decide to look around the room a little bit more.

On top of my dresser was the small gear my father gave me along with a note. It read, "You left this on the train. I think it's a fantastic token and would hate for you to lose it. Luci." She signed her name with a little heart at the end. I started to feel bad that I forgot the token my father gave me, but then I realized that Luci just kind of rushed me out of my reaping outfit earlier and didn't give me the chance to remember it at all.

I search the dresser to find an assortment of fancy clothing. Even the pajamas they have here are luxurious and made with a soft silk. Since it's night time already and I'll probably be going to bed after dinner, I decided to change into the pajamas and wear a soft black robe over them. Once an hour was up, I walked over the the dining room and saw that everyone else was dressed for bed except for Rosche. Luci and Dahlia were wearing conservative silk night gowns, while Rosche was in the same outfit that he had on all day. The servants come out and place various dishes on our table. The first thing I reach for are the steamy bread rolls. "They're better with the seafood chowder," Dahlia says as she dips the bread rolls into her soup. I take the ladle and get myself a bowl. I don't think I've ever stuffed my face with food so much in my life.

As dinner progresses, Rosche starts conversing with us. "So, as you both know, District Three does not yet have any victors. That makes it my responsibility to also act as your mentor," he explains. I almost spit the chowder back into my bowl, but I manage to hold it in. I'm doubly screwed if Rosche is my mentor. I was honestly hoping the Capitol would have someone else hired for the job when we got here. "Now you may think I wouldn't fit as a mentor, but I can assure you I've been doing this for six years. I know what I am doing," he assures.

"Is that why every District Three tribute never makes it to the final eight?" Dahlia asks sarcastically. Again, I have to hold myself from spitting out my food. This time because I didn't expect Dahlia to be so forward. It's true though. No person from District Three has made it to the final eight, which is a huge accomplishment. Also, none of the District Three tributes have gotten sponsors in any of the past six years. Probably because Rosche annoys the crap out of everyone.

"Now, now, I just haven't been fortunate with having the most…abled tributes since I became District Three's escort," Rosche defends. Dahlia slams her hands on the table.

"So every tribute from District Three died because they were disabled?" Dahlia yells at Rosche.

Rosche leans back in his chair and does this weird hand motion for the purpose of what looks like defending himself from a possible attack. After a few seconds of Dahlia giving Rosche a deadly glare, she storms out of the dining room.

Luci takes her napkin from her lap, places it on the table, and then gets up out of her seat. "Dinner was delicious, I should probably go now," she says as she rushes out of the room.

I look at Rosche, but his head is turned away from me. I can tell he is trying his best to not look at me; it's killing him inside. I continue to stare at him until he lets out a huge sigh and gives up.

"Don't look at me like that," he snaps. "That girl, pretty as she may be, shows no respect!"

"Maybe people would show you respect if you didn't act like such an obnoxious jerk," I scold.

Rosche turns his head away again, but this time I don't play the staring game. I decide to get up and go look for Dahlia. When I get into the hallway, I notice Luci knocking on Dahlia's door.

"Is she in there?" I ask.

"I don't think so," Luci replies.

We stand there at Dahlia's door for a few moments to check if she is there. "Where else could she go?" I ask.

Luci looks at the elevator. "There's only one other place."

When we get into the elevator, Luci pushes the button for the top floor. "Look, I've been working with Rosche since the games started," Luci starts. "He's an ass, but part of the problem was that none of the tributes wanted to listen to him. It can't hurt to see what he has to say, you've got him or nobody as a mentor." I don't respond to her, but I just let it stir in my head. She makes a good point, nobody probably listens to him because they assume he's a stupid jerk to begin with.

The elevator doors open, and we are brought to the roof of the training center. I see Dahlia sitting over by a small garden patch.

"I think it's best if I leave you two be," Luci says as she heads back into the elevator.

I walk over to Dahlia and sit down by the garden next to her. "Is it worth fighting?" Dahlia asks me quietly.

I pull out the token that my father gave me, and show it to Dahlia.

"My father gave this to me in the justice building. He told me that if I can't fight, then I should survive," I explain. Dahlia grabs the tiny gears and inspects it with her hands. "Maybe we can't fight as well as some of the other tributes, but we can do other things, can't we?" I ask. Dahlia gives the gear back to me.

"I doubt there's going to be any kind of technology in the arena, and even if there was, what would we do with it?" Dahlia asks me. I shake my head.

"No, not just technology. Think about what District Three does. We take simple things, pieces, and put them together to create something fantastic," I explain. Dahlia doesn't respond, but I seem to have her attention. I show her the gear again. "Like this, think of how many things need this tiny little gear in order to operate." Dahlia smiles and nods.

"We use our surroundings. Anything," she says. I nod.

"So what are we going to do about training tomorrow?" Dahlia asks.

That is something that I haven't thought of. It's not like we can just spend our training time engineering some strange device. "We find our strengths," I answer.

I don't really know exactly how training days work other than it's when all of the tributes get together and practice their skills, and then they individually present them to the gamemakers. Maybe if I asked Rosche he would tell us, but I don't really want to speak to that man right now.

"We should get to bed. Long day tomorrow," I suggest. Dahlia nods, and we both stand up.

I start to head for the elevator when Dahlia stops me. "Collen, wait," she says. She walks up to me and gives me a quick peck on the cheek. "Thank you," she says, smiling. I stand there in awe for a few seconds as she gets in the elevator. "You coming?" She asks while in the elevator. I break out of my trance and join her.

Once we get back to the third floor, we both head to our individual rooms with no words being said in between. I plop down on my bed and immediately start to feel myself drifting off. Training days begin tomorrow, and I can almost hear that gong at the start of the games go off.


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

When morning comes, I awake from the sound of knocking on my door. It's Luci with an outfit neatly folded in her hands."It's your training uniforms. Have to make you guys look like badasses somehow," she says while giving me a quick wink.

I thank her and close the door. The outfit is made from a very soft and light material. It's dark green with black stripes on the sleeves and the sides of the shirt. On the back of the shirt is a giant gear with the number three in the center. Not too bad Luci. I wouldn't mind wearing these in the games either, provided the temperature wasn't freezing.

I step outside of my room at the same time as Dahlia. She is wearing a matching training uniform; however, it's much tighter around her body than it is around mine.

"What?" She asks as she catches me looking at her outfit.

I try to play it off. "Nothing," I reply. "Luci made some pretty cool uniforms."

As I say that, I see Luci walk out the dining room with a plate full of pancakes. "Glad you think so, because I've used the same design every year," she says confidently as she walks into her room.

Dahlia and I head into the dining room for breakfast, and we are greeted by a very different looking Rosche. His hair isn't tied in any fancy braid, there's no white powder on his face, and he's not wearing those glittery gloves. it seems he couldn't part with the pink tuxedo, however. "Good morning you two," he says smiling. It's very clear he's trying to hold back his perkiness. Dahlia and I sit down, not responding to him. "Would either of you like so pancakes? They're quite delicious," he says. This time I hear a little bit of that Capitol accent in his voice. He pours us our drinks, and even takes the plates from the servants and gives them to us. The servants just give him and awkward and confused look.

"Rosche, what's are you doing," I ask frankly.

Rosche rolls his eyes and sits down in his seat. "Ugh, fine," he says in his normal Capitol accent. "I talked with Luci last night," he explains. "She said I was a…" Dahlia and I both lean in. "She said I was an obnoxious jerk and that I had to tone it down if I wanted to be your mentor," he finishes. I have to give him credit; I was impressed with the no makeup and lack of ridiculous clothing…besides the tuxedo. "The point is, I need to put that cocky Silas from District One in his place. Every year he boasts about his tributes and how much better he is than me AND I JUST WANT TO WIN," he yells as he slams his hands on the table like a child.

Rosche has been an asshole this whole time, but I think I finally understand him a little bit. "Just please, listen to me. I don't know what else I can do," he pleads.

Dahlia and I look at each other and then give a quick nod. "Fine," I reply.

"And I'm sorry about last night," Dahlia reluctantly adds on.

Rosche claps his hands repeatedly with a wide smile on his face. "Oh yayyy," he says with giddy excitement. "So, let's see if I can give you any pointers before you guys go for training. Any notable talents? With weapons preferably." I shrug, and I see Dahlia shake her head.

"None that I can think of. Neither of us used weapons back in District Three," I answer.

Rosche leans back in his chair and begins to twirl his long green hair. "Well then. My advice is to spend today finding a weapon you think will be the easiest for you to use in the arena. Whether you both like it or not, there will come a point where it can save your life," Rosche instructs. His tone changed again, but this time it doesn't sound forced.

"Are weapons all that are in the training stations?" Dahlia asks.

Rosche shakes his head. "No. There are stations for traps, survival skills, recognizing plants. Many other useful tips. You guys can focus on those completely once you pick a weapon that you feel suits you."

I'm glad they have stations about things other than weapons. Any tips I can get on how to last longer in the games will help.

Rosche dismisses us after a delicious breakfast, and we head to the elevator. When we reach the first floor, we are accompanied by Zara, her partner, and a very tall and intimidating man. He doesn't look too old; his early twenties at best, but he definitely has very rigid features. "Ah, well isn't this perfect," the man says. He closes the elevator door, but doesn't press any buttons to go down.

"We'd love to speak to you quickly," Zara says. The man shakes my hand with an iron grip, and Dahlia's too. I could tell by the wince on her face.

"My name is Silas. I'm the mentor for District One," he introduces himself. "I believe you spoke to Zara yesterday." Zara gives an overly peppy smile and wave.

"And my name is Blayne," Zara's partner says. I didn't notice this before, but Blayne looks strikingly similar to Zara. He's blonde, just as good looking as his partner, and has the same eyes.

"Are you both…brother and sister?" I ask hesitantly. Zara and Blayne laugh.

"Did you not notice during the reapings?" She asks.

"Our father told us one of us had to prove to be the superior child," Blayne says casually.

A sick feeling fell in the pit of my stomach. Are the Hunger Games really that serious in these districts? I decide not to comment on my obvious disapproval of the whole situation. I can tell Dahlia is even more disgusted with Zara than she was yesterday.

"Anyways, we'd like for you both to team up with us," Silas offers. "I know what it must be like to have someone as awful as Rosche as your mentor."

"He's annoying, but he's not that bad," I defend.

Silas lets out a loud and powerful laugh. "Not that bad? As long as you have that guy representing you, say goodbye to any possible sponsorships."

I forgot about sponsorships. During the games, mentors are supposed to gets sponsors to pay for items that have specific use for a tribute like medicine, food, or weapons. Usually getting sponsored depends on the mentor, the tribute, and the tributes training score. It's true that Rosche tends to annoy a lot of people, which may take away from possible sponsors.

"If you help out Zara and Blayne here, I'll promise you both sponsors," Silas promises.

"Why us?" Dahlia asks.

Zara decides to answer for Silas. "I said this yesterday. Your technical skills could greatly help us. In exchange, we'll do the fighting," she explains.

"Yeah, but in the end there can only be one. If it gets down to the four of us, what then?" I ask.

Zara's laughs, and it's even worse than Rosche's; It's whiney and high pitched. "That's just how the game works. It'll be every man for himself. So what do you say?"

Dahlia and I look at each other. This has bad idea written all over it. How can we trust people who would fight to the death with their own? Then again, I'm extra scared that if we do refuse to help them, they'll go after us first. I stand there awkwardly looking at Dahlia, unable to speak. Dahlia turns to Silas. "I think we'll be doing our own thing. But thank you for the offer," she says shakily.

"Well then, we wish you the best," Zara says faker than ever.

Silas pushes the button to take us to the training stations, and the rest of the elevator ride is silent. When the elevator doors open, we find that all of the other districts are already waiting. We join the group, and for the first time I get an actual look at some of the other tributes. There is one boy that appears to be from District Five. He looks younger than twelve years old, which makes me feel bad for him to have to be thrown into a death match like this at such a young age. The pair from District Twelve looks extremely emaciated, and the District Two and Four tributes look just as robust as Zara and Blayne.

We're given a speech by President Crude, and then released to freely explore the training stations. All of the tributes from Districts One, Two, and Four head straight for the weapons. Dahlia and I follow closely behind and inspect the remaining selection. There is a set of throwing knives, and a bow and arrow left. There are also a few oddly-shaped swords, but most of them seem like they would be too heavy for me to use.

Dahlia picks up the bow. "Ever used one of these before?" she asks.

"No," I reply as I look at the throwing knifes.

Dahlia takes a handful of arrows and walks over to the target range. She tries to set up the bow, but the station attendant decided to intervene. "Seems like you never used a bow before," he says. Dahlia nods. "Well, you're holding it the wrong way." The attendant helps Dahlia get the proper form tells her to aim for the bullseye. After about five or so arrows, she managed to make two onto the target, but none in the dead center. "Not bad for a beginner," the attendant applauds.

He then directs his attention to me and my set of throwing knives. "I'm assuming you've never used these before either," he says. I give a shameful nod. "The thing you have to know about these is that they are perfectly weighted. It's all about the wrist rotation, hand placement, and how you release the knife," he explains. "Go ahead and try one of the targets." The attendant backs away a safe distance from the target range. I chuck one of the knives at what looks like the right angle, but it appears to travel far left from the path to the target and hits the ground earlier. "Keep playing with the angle, you'll get it," the attendant yells to me. I turn around, and notice that a majority of the tributes are watching me. I continue to chuck the knives at the target, but they all follow the wrong trajectory. I can hear laughing from behind me. It's most likely the District One, Two, and Four tributes.

"Maybe, knife throwing isn't your forte," the attendant says as he's picking up the knife from the range. "What about a sword?" I follow him over to the weapons rack, and quickly glance at Dahlia over at the target range. She's getting all five arrows on the target now, just none near the center. The only swords left of the rack are fairly large and heavy looking. The attendant picks up each to see which is the lightest. He ends up handing me one with an edge that looks like a squiggly line. I immediately try to hold it with both hands. "It's meant to be held with one hand," the attendant suggests. I try holding it with one hand, but it's still pretty heavy. He takes me over to an area with a bunch of different dummies. I can see Blayne almost tearing up a set of dummies with a sword that is twice the size of mine.

I try to mimic his technique, but end up tripping over, dropping the sword, or barely damaging the dummy. "Do whatever keeps you stable," the attendant instructs. I try to be more conservative with my movements, and slash my sword with a firm grip. It's weak, and my movements are small, but it's an improvement. After about an hour of messing around with the dummy, I decide it's time to take a break from the weapons training. I head over to the traps station. The attendant shows me a few useful knots and snares to use in the arena. These were much easier to manage than handling a weapon.

I decide to finish up my training day with going to the identifying plants station. The attendant gives me a few tips to check for plants that are edible, poisonous upon consumption, or poisonous upon touch. It's scary how down to the last detail I have to be. She quizzes me by showing me pictures of random plants, and identifying which are deadly or edible. I pass with only mixing up one plant for being edible over poisonous, but thankfully not lethal. She gives me a few more quizzes before I decide to call it a day.

As I leave the station, I notice that Dahlia is still at the target range shooting arrows. I doubt she's moved since I stopped throwing the knives. She didn't visit any other stations at all. I look at the target range, and see four arrows on the target, but like before, none in the center. Dahlia stretches the bow and aims. She releases her hand, and the arrow rapidly pierces the center of the target. _Bullseye_.


End file.
